


moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars

by uchiwan



Series: the eternal song of sun and moon communicating their conflict across the sky. [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 (Naruto)-centric, Eldritch, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Kishimoto I Just Want To Talk, Lovecraftian, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Mythology - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements, Uchiha Clan-centric, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Worldbuilding, slowburn, when i say slowburn i MEAN slowburn, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25526716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uchiwan/pseuds/uchiwan
Summary: when he's seven years old, he sees his father’s throat slit so deep that the white bone peers out from beneath the gore, the cloying scent of death lingering in his nose.( when he's seven years old, he loses his family ).when he's twelve, he's placed on a team with a boy, whose smile lit up like a thousand suns, igniting the sky in igneous wonder. & a girl, who reminds him of blooming summertide, hydrogen bubbling and hissing beneath her skin.( when he's twelve years old, he finds another family ).
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Original Female Character(s), Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke, Hatake Kakashi & Uzumaki Naruto, Jiraiya & Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke & Original Female Character(s), Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke & Yamanaka Ino, Uchiha Sasuke/Original Female Character(s), Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto & Original Female Character(s), Uzumaki Naruto/Original Female Character(s)
Series: the eternal song of sun and moon communicating their conflict across the sky. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846084
Comments: 33
Kudos: 72
Collections: Incredible Sasuke Fics that make me cry, Nobleko’s Shelf of the Best Fics, Sasuke Uchiha





	1. there is an ocean of silence between us… and I am drowning in it.

**Author's Note:**

> Or, an AU in which Uchiha Sasuke receives therapy, bonds with his teammates in new and exciting ways, and everyone gets the character development they deserve. 
> 
> Title comes from Tolkien / The Lord of the Rings.

**BOOK II** : FIRE.

' **From darkness comes light; from death comes life**.'   
Excerpt from the _Prophecy of the Sun and Moon_ , translated by Master Tselha, circa. 120 AC.

Sasuke wakes with a start, fear lodging itself in the space between his ribs, his heartbeat loud in his ears. The cool darkness is almost a welcome sight after the red - all that red ( all he can see is red — the red of his nii—of That Man’s sharingan; the blood and viscera splattered on his anbu uniform, the red of the tsukuyomi ). He takes a breath, slow and shaky, and squeezes his eyes shut —

— and he’s seven years old again and sees his father’s throat slit so deep that the white bone peers out from beneath the gore, the cloying scent of death lingering in his nose. He’s seven years old again, and the sticky warmth of his parents’ blood seeps into the spaces between his toes ( tears spill from his obsidian eyes as he scrubs the blood from his feet, from his hands, from his cheeks. He scrubs and **scrubs** and scrubs but the red stays on his hands, in his nails, in between his toes. getout **getout** _getout_ ), the metallic stench burning in his nostrils. He turns towards his brother, obsidian eyes meeting Itachi’s glowing crimson eyes ( yokai eyes, strengthened by the sacrifice of their kinsfolk and the _hate_ in his heart ) and flinches at the hatehate _hate_. 

( **Foolish** little brother — cling to your wretched life ).

( Itachi’s sword swings through the air, blood splatters, a body falls to the ground with a thud, blood seeps from the wound on his father’s neck —

His mother doesn’t scream when he pierces her with his sword, careful to only stab her in the chest below the heart and at the bottom of her lung and she falls next to her husband. She has five minutes until she spends eternity in the Great Above with the Heavenly Mother ). 

When Sasuke opens his eyes again, he’s twelve years old and he’s alone in the cold, emptiness of childhood home. He’s twelve years old and he’s alone with the ghosts of his murdered family; their bloodied sockets turned towards him. His vision blurs with tears and his chest heaves with his stuttered breaths, the sour aftertaste of a bad dream in his mouth. He focuses on every breathing technique he knows as he tries to slow his racing pulse and swallows back a sob, nails digging into the sheets beneath him. Yes, he can feel it: the soft cloth beneath his sweat-soaked skin, the springy mattress, the warm pillow beneath his head. This is reality. This is no dre—

 **Foolish little brother** echoes in his ears as he stumbles to his bathroom, the taste of vomit in his mouth.

( Get out of my head, get out of my head! I **hate** you! )

* * *

He arrives at the training grounds a few hours early, senses clouded by exhaustion. It’s a tiredness that he’s well acquainted with — nights like these are a common occurrence; he can’t remember the last time he slept without seeing _red_ , without choking back bile, without _screaming_. Some days are worse than others, but somehow he manages to stumble through training, through the endless D-rank missions. His sensei doesn't say anything, which he’s thankful for, but he can feel the weight of her golden gaze upon him, assessing him, watching him and it reminds him of the way his mother looked at him when he returned home from training too hard, bone-weary and caked in dirt. 

No one is there when he arrives; it’s far too early, even for shinobi standards. The grandfather clock in the hallway read 4:30 AM when he glanced at it before he left, but he needed to train—needed to do something to wash away all the read ( No matter how hard you scrub, the red never goes away; it burrows deep inside you, like one of Shino’s bugs ). Routine, he learns, helps with the psychological trauma; it’s not a quick solution, but it prevents him from spiraling into a dark void of negativity. 

He twists and turns, flinging the kunai at the targets with deadly precision. The kunai lands on the targets with a metal _shhink_ that cuts through the quietness of the training grounds (two in front of him, three behind him, one behind the human-sized boulder some feet away) — yet it’s not good enough— he has to be perfect. 

( Very good Sasuke, that was _almost_ perfect— 

_Almost_ perfect isn’t **good** enough )

He breathes heavily, hair sticky with sweat against his skin, hair curling like a wet halo around his face. The Last Uchiha wipes the sweat from his eyes, gritting his teeth as he throws a kunai at the target in front of him and _misses_ the bullseye. Something like annoyance curls deep in his gut, slicing through his veins like lightning. Still not perfect. _dammit._

( You promised you would help me with my training —

not today Sasuke )

He grits his teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to shake the memory of That Man out of his head ( not now, please not now. no, no, **no** — ). His skin tingles, heart beating against his throat, and angry tears gather at the corner of his eyes. Something digs painfully into his sweaty palms and he can’t breathe. He can’t — he’s gasping for air, panic crawling into the spaces in his ribs. It hurts. He falls to his knees and then — and then — _He_ is there, mouth twisted into a sneer, cold red eyes staring down at him. **Weak, foolish little brother** , **how pathetic you’ve become** ( pathetic, you are so pathetic. you can’t even train without falling apart like deadened leaves in the fall. Why did He keep you alive? You’ll never be as good as him ) — 

He releases a shuddering breath and thinks of the golden yellow of Naruto’s hair, the brilliance of his smile and how it lights up the room; eyes bluer than the ocean, and the warmth that spreads through his body when their hands touch, and when he pulls away the warmth of his touch ebbs away like the tides upon a shore, weaker and weaker until he can no longer feel the inferno of his touch. the scent of fresh-cut flowers & petrichor clinging to his pillow after Naruto spends the night, the warmth of his body curling around him. ( _find your anchor_ , Ino had said, cherry lips curling upwards into a smile. _Be your own anchor if you have to_ , _but think of someone or something that makes you happy. My auntie says it’ll help when you’re in the middle of a panic attack._ But he’d just scoffed at her, unwilling to admit that he needed or appreciated the advice from her therapist aunt. But she knew, _ancestors she knew._ ) 

Ba-dump — **ba-dump** — ba-dump. His heartbeat is thunder in his ears, blood lightning-quick in his veins, kunai digging into his palm until blood drips down his palm like crimson mercury. He takes a deep breath. Ba-dump — ba-dump — ba-dump. The green vines that climb up Naruto’s living room walls, glittering flowers in shades of blue and white and yellow and purple scattered throughout the house, the dwarf ylang-ylang tree growing in the corner of Naruto’s bedroom, the smell of his cooking and the taste of spices heavy on his tongue; the chaos of the living room - brightly colored pillows strewn everywhere, scrolls on every available surface. 

He takes a deep breath, his heartbeat returning to normal — and when he opens his eyes, he can see the sun rising in the sky and hear the morning song of the birds and the moon shining faintly in the morning light. His palm burns from gripping the kunai too tight, but the pain helps ground him in reality — this is his reality : He is in Konoha. He is alive. He’s _alive_. That Man is not here. He is safe. He is not weak. He survived That Night, after all, and has survived ever since. He is —

Sharp, throbbing pain originating from his palm distracts him from his thoughts, and he looks down; blood drips from the wound, down his fingers. Life essence. His people — the Uchiha — painted ancient blood-runes on their skin to honour and celebrate their goddess, from whom all things come and to whom all things return at their end, she who gives life and takes it back into her flames. His grandmother told him of the lucky few Uchiha who visited the abode of the Great Mother and drank from the waters, bathed in her flames, and returned with eyes glittering like the stars, flecked like paint across the cosmos. ( _Your father’s mother was one_ , his mother’s mother told him. Her paintbrush danced across her canvas, _and you may be one as well, for it often skips a generation_ ). He’s no stranger to blood, no stranger to these rituals that were so sacred to his people; he participated in several, offering his blood in tribute to the Great Mother, painting the sacred blood-runes on his skin. He isn’t afraid of blood, and yet — 

When he sees the colour red, he can only think of the Massacre.

A sigh escapes his lips as he reaches into the pouch strapped to his belt, digging through the contents until his fingers curl around the first aid kit, thankful he remembered to pack it. His mother and Soyun-san had reminded him constantly that a shinobi, especially one of the Noble Uchiha Clan, must never be without a first aid kit, even off duty. While basic first aid was taught at the academy, his mother had gone a step further, taking him on field trips down to the Naka river to identify herbs and plants that could be used to make a salve for burns, treat stomach pains, and a myriad of other things. He always loved learning about herbs from his mother, who, despite never taking that extra step to becoming a medical ninja, passed her knowledge to her youngest child (she was a kenjutsu mistress of world renown). He wipes down his bloodied palm with a disposable washcloth and, with gentle ease, cleans his wounds—glad that it was shallow enough that he didn’t need to visit the hospital and explain his embarrassing episode—and wraps the bandages around his hand. When he’s satisfied with his work, he rises from his kneeling position, shaking, and stumbles slightly; knees buckling slightly beneath him as though he’s a newborn faun, his legs numb from staying in one position for too long. 

There’s a spike of chakra behind him, and he knows he's being watched. He freezes, cat-like eyes narrowing as dark (yet familiar) chakra brushes against the slopes of his cheeks and he catches a dark shape moving in his peripheral view. The familiar scent of damp earth and plant oils invades his nostrils; it’s been years but he still recognizes the scent and the tingling sensation that creeps down his back when it— _they_ are near. Still, annoyance bubbles inside him like magma in a volcano at the sudden appearance of _them_ —where were they when That Man slaughtered his entire family? They could have prevented the slaughter, they were powerful—he knew it, they’d shown him just how powerful they were, and they’d promised to be there when he needed them, yet they were nowhere to be seen when he needed them the most.

He reaches for the kunai on the ground, fingers curling around the bloodstained handle, and still keeping his guard up, lifts himself off the ground. He pivots on his heel, the kunai sailing towards the familiar presence—

Only to land with a _thunk,_ lodging itself into the tree directly behind him. Sasuke’s eyes widen when he doesn’t see them, and confusion paints his features; fear crawls up his spine as disembodied chuckles echo in the training ground. He feels their eyes on him, watching him like a wolf observes it’s prey, can feel their dark chakra brushing against him. 

“Well done, Sasuke-kun,” the disembodied voice is like oil down his throat, thick and black, and he shudders again. “We’ll see you soon.”

“ **We’ll be watching you, always**.” 

A sense of unease prickles through his veins, pooling in his stomach, and in the warmth of the summer morning, he feels cold. Ice enters his bloodstream as he contemplates the being’s words—we’ll be watching you—what did they _mean_ , we’ll be watching you? The last Uchiha's eyes flutter shut, another involuntary shudder wracking his thin frame as the words repeat in his mind. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but the presence disappears like a shadow in the sunlight, leaving him alone once again in the training yard; he wonders if he was ever truly alone, even here in his small sanctuary. His dark eyes slip closed and he takes a shuddering breath, fingers curling into his bandaged palm, the dull ache from his cut centering him. 

He opens his eyes as the birdsongs echo through the training ground. He’d barely noticed that the birds had stopped singing their sweet songs during his interaction with the stranger-not stranger from his childhood, almost as if they _feared_ them. He remembers his mother telling him that animals could see into the souls of all living beings, perhaps they’d seen into Their soul and found them wanting—if they had a soul. He doubts it very much. 

He shakes his head again, letting the thoughts fall from his mind as he begins cleaning up the training grounds before his sensei and teammates arrive. They had a mission to escort some priestess back to her village and assist the villagers with planting flowers and trees and helping out around the village. It was a simple thing, but he was looking forward to getting away from the village in which his entire family was slaughtered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beautiful readers! Thank you for clicking on my fic and reading it. I should start by saying that this going to be a re-write of the canon, in which Sasuke gets therapy, a happier-ish storyline/ending and I cherry-pick what I like about canon. Some events will be the same, others will be different. It has some supernatural elements, massive amounts of worldbuilding, and influences from/references to different pieces of media, as well as some original characters.
> 
> Sasuke is my favorite character, and I hated that he didn't get the therapy he needed and downward spiraled the way he did. I also hated that the female characters and other minor characters didn't get the development they deserved (ie: ino, sakura, tenten, hinata, etc), so this fic does these things : sasuke gets therapy, the female and minor characters get the proper development and power ups they deserve, and team 7 grows as a team (mind you, this will be a very different team seven) and actually gets trained. 
> 
> While I do strive to fix canon, I make an absolute mess of it, say "fuck canon" because sometimes canon doesn't make sense (don't talk to me about the timeline, that's a nightmare), and build relationships between the characters. I will say this though, romance isn't the focus of this fic, and most of the romantic ships happen when they are 16-18 years old, but I'll tag some of the ships that will show up, even if they are just brief romances, onesided crushes, etc. The ships that really matter, right now, are the platonic ones, the healthy relationships that each character builds with their teammates, their friends, comrades, and enemies (ie. Sasuke's relationship with Itachi and how it continues to affect him). When I say slowbuild I mean slowbuild. 
> 
> My plan for this series is to continue through Shippuden and into the next generation / Boruto era. I might write a prequel side-fic for the parents’ generation if there’s enough interest or a side-fic that’s set during the Warring Sates Era / founding of the leaf. All Naruto fics i write will share the same lore / worldbuilding. 
> 
> [join the discord server](https://discord.gg/rPVk7DX), where I talk about the series, post drabbles, oneshots and tidbits from the fics, share inspiration and worldbuilding.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team 7 is off on their next adventure!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! enjoy the chapter! 

Dawn arises in Konoha, as it wont to do each morning, the firmament a mix of beautiful warm colours, the sun blooming across the horizon, golden petals stretching outwards above the sleepy village slowly unfurling her petals like a flower from her slumber. A jubilant chorus of birdsong floats through the dewy air as easily as any summer pollen as Naruto steps out of his home of five years, affectionately dubbed ‘Little Uzushio’ by his parents and his godfather. He sweeps one last cursory glance around the brightly furnished interior, bright blue eyes landing on the small vase of purple and yellow wildflowers on the breakfast nook’s table and smiles, warmth spreading through him as he remembers picking the flowers with Ino and Hinata. He lifts the straps of his dark purple backpack—embroidered with the Uchiha clan symbol and pink and purple flowers—over his shoulder, nodding with satisfaction when he finds nothing out of place. 

He shuts the door behind him and locks it, pausing briefly to debate whether he should apply the security seals as an extra precaution for the house. On one hand: it could be seen as overkill, considering the crime rate in Konoha was so low that it was unlikely that he would get robbed; on the other hand, he was leaving the village on his very first mission, and his godfather drilled lessons into him about the importance of being cautious, even if he lived in a village filled with ninja and even if he locked the door. _There were important scrolls_ , Jiraiya-jiji said, _scrolls given to Kushina-hime from Mito-hime, scrolls filled with dangerous sealing jutsu, scrolls even Orochimaru would want._ And while Naruto hasn’t seen the scrolls in question, as he’s only a novice fūijtusu student, he’s seen the vault in which they were stored. _Pretty impressive seal work_ , his godfather had said, as he showed the boy the vault, _Mito-hime’s design, modernized and expanded upon by your mother. This seal has only been used thrice_ — _to protect this vault and its secrets, the second was used to protect this house and the third was to protect_ _something in the Uchihiku_. 

But he wonders as he stands there, five years later, why those special seals didn’t protect the Uchiha clan from the former heir, from being slaughtered. 

( perhaps it wasn’t meant to protect the entirety of the Uchihiku )

Perhaps they’d never know why the seals and protective wards failed to protect the entire clan, or why Itachi slaughtered his entire clan sans Sasuke, but he could protect the last survivor—his best friend—and even if Sasuke pushed him away now, he’d find a way to protect him. 

He shakes his head, clearing those dark thoughts from his mind. _Better safe than sorry_ he thinks, sliding a bloodied finger across the door frame in intricate designs, watching with glittering eyes as the wood absorbs his life-blood and settles into the cracks of the townhouse, fueling the protection seals and wards. Starlight slides down his spine and settles into his bones, leaving him feeling connected to the house. 

Naruto slips his bleeding finger into his mouth, licking the residual blood and once the wound is clean (he doesn’t bother wrapping it up with gauze, knowing his accelerated healing will take care of the rest), he slips his hands into his pockets. He walks down the stoop, careful not to disturb the potted plants decorating it, the power of the wards and seals buzzing under his skin like an itch under his skin he isn’t able to scratch away—a side effect of setting the seals, his sensei said, it’ll go away after a while. 

Most of the inhabitants of Konoha are still asleep at that hour, lost in the realm of sweet dreams, unaware of the beauty of the morning sun or the birdsongs, of the darkness that rises like specks of moondust ( _something dark comes_ , the dark voice croons in his ear, _beware the hare and the solar flare, forswear the forest of despair_ ). But for the shinobi of Konoha, their day has already begun; as had Naruto’s. He’d risen that morning, dewy-eyed and aching, lightning lancing up his spine, and as he wiped the tears from his eyes, the dream faded away like smoke in the wind and he was left with the taste of ashes in his mouth and a ringing sound in his ears.

( _plumes of smoke rising slowly in the starlit sky from the dilapidated building_ _—_

 _black tears dripping from red-tinted eyes, an ear-splitting wail echoing in the forest_ )

The strange dream lingers in his mind, the details falling away like deadened stars, yet the dread lingers within him and he can’t explain why it scares him so. It was so unlike his other dreams; those dreams he could explain, at least. As the jinchūriki of Nine-Tailed-Fox, it wasn’t uncommon for him to awaken with the taste of blood coating his tongue, a deep hunger for birds and bugs gnawing at the core of his being, or the urge to run through the forest and dip his toes into the river. 

A sigh escapes his lips as he stops himself from tumbling down _that_ rabbit hole; now isn’t the time to be distracted: Team 7 had a new mission — their very first C-rank mission _outside the village_ and he needs to be focusing on _that._ Yet, flashes of _red_ and black seep into his thoughts. 

* * *

  
  


By the time Naruto arrives at his team’s training area, it’s considerably warmer; the chill of the summer morning making way for the heat of the summer sun. Sunlight shifts through the forest leaves, casting the training grounds in half shadow, and it's in the shadow that he catches sight of Sasuke alone. Neither their third squad member nor their sensei has arrived yet, but Naruto’s not too worried; their female teammate will show up soon, she’s not one to be late, and their sensei shortly after. Their sensei was **_never_ ** late. Excitement buzzes inside him, like Shino’s bugs beneath his skin—and he finds himself wishing the last two would hurry up so they could depart that much sooner. 

Sasuke doesn’t notice him at first as engrossed in cleaning his kunai as he is and Naruto can’t help but watch him; the long fingers of his left hand curling around the pommel as he wipes a cloth up and down the blade with his other. Naruto’s eyes wander up to his face, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the furrowing of his brows, and the slight frown curling at his mouth. If Naruto looks closely, he can see the freckles that litter Sasuke’s aristocratic nose, but in the morning light and with the pallor of his skin, they’re half-hidden like the moon behind the clouds. 

“Hey, Sasuke.” 

Naruto looks down again and _red_ coats Sasuke’s fingers like caramel on an apple, dripping onto the grass with a soft pitter-patter. Fear slithers down his spine as his gaze flickers upwards, blue eyes widening at the sight that greets him: bloodstains Sasuke’s moonlike face, sloping down the curve of his jaw, collecting beneath his shirt, and a wicked grin curves at his mouth as his sword swings downwards—

“—to.” 

“ _Usuratonkachi_.”

He blinks and the red disappears like mist in the sunlight, though the colour burns into his mind, along with the image of Sasuke’s sharp-toothed smile and red-tinted eyes. “Whussit?” 

“I _asked_ if you remembered to eat breakfast.” annoyance laces Sasuke’s tone as he peers at Naruto’s face, dark eyebrows drawn together. 

“Oh—uh, yeah.” 

Sasuke stares at him for a few more seconds before turning his gaze to his (clean) weapons, and Naruto forces himself not to follow his gaze, to look at Sasuke (blood blood blood, wicked smile). What was that—a dream? A Vision? Uneasiness crawls in his belly like a spider skittering across the forest floor. 

Naruto plasters a smile on his face, swallowing the nausea that crawls up his spine. “Did _you_ eat breakfast? We have a mission you know.” 

Sasuke glances up at him, boredom painting his features, though a hint of annoyanceflashes in his dark eyes. “Of course I did, who do you think I am?” 

“Someone who forgot to eat his food?” He cracks a smile, laughing at the squawk of indignation from Sasuke and the filthy glare he sends at Naruto. 

“I brought some snacks!” Naruto sets his backpack on the grass and unzips it, carefully reaching inside to get Sasuke something to eat. His fingers curl around the snack he’d prepared—for both _this reason_ and for the journey ahead of them. It’s Sasuke’s favorite: roasted tomato onigiri, and judging from the hunger that glints in Sasuke’s eyes, he’s glad he decided to pack extra food. He throws the onigiri in Sasuke’s general direction and watches as Sasuke catches it, the red from his ears fading. 

“Eat, tomato.” 

Naruto settles on the ground, crossing his legs in front of him, and turns his gaze towards his friend, the vision creeping into his thoughts like a venomous, irresistible poison; his gorge rising like the tides of the shore at the remembrance of blood-stained fingers and burning flesh—

( _beware the hare and the solar flare, forswear the forest of despair_ )

Unable to stand the memory of Sasuke covered in blood, Naruto turns away and pulls his well-worn copy of _The Gathering of the Bands_ , a book he hoped would distract him until it was time to leave for the mission. Sasuke had gotten him into the book series, and now it became his comfort book; a book that reminded him of his early childhood, of the time before the massacre when the Uchiha clan still thrived in their district and dimpled smiles came easier to Sasuke’s mouth, especially when they pretended to be Bodo Haggins and his faithful friend, Samlad Goodchild on their journey to Markhor. He opens the book to his bookmarked page and begins reading.

The third member of their team sweeps in not long after he picks up from where he left off, and the sun brightens at her arrival, welcoming her as one would welcome a child (and even the shadows scatter at her arrival). 

“Good morning, my dear boys.” She says, settling down next to Sasuke, tossing her braid behind her. 

Naruto looks up from the passage about Samlad _‘dropping no eaves’_ , lips curling upwards into a smile as he looks at his female squad member. “G'Morning' freckles.” 

Sayuri is dressed practically in black shorts and a sleeveless electric-indigo high-stand collar blouse with the Ōhirume sun on the back, her white-gold curls pulled into a simple plait down her back. Dressed in his plain orange pants and black shirt, he feels drab in comparison. 

Although he wishes he was on a team with Sakura, oh _Sakura,_ with her vine-green eyes and cherry blossom pink hair, he’s come to appreciate Sayuri (and he knows Sasuke does too) for her quick wit, her smile that rivals the sun, her appreciation for ramen and her interest in flowers. But as much as he longs to be on Sakura's team, he's glad he isn't : for she and Ino are infamous for their rivalry over Sasuke, he's not sure he could handle the constant fangirling from her.

Sasuke sweeps a sidelong glance at Sayuri, nodding at the female member of his team. “Ōhirume.” His voice isn’t cold or detached when he speaks to her—though he addresses her by her surname. 

Naruto cracks a smile—that’s just how Sasuke was; after The Massacre he stopped using honorifics, and though some people might have cared (the council members— _bleh!_ —other adults), Sayuri doesn’t find it offensive. 

“You look a bit, tired, Sasuke. Have you been sleeping well?” 

“I’m _fine,_ Ōhirume.” 

Sayuri shoots Naruto a look and Naruto shrugs, mouthing the words _'we’ll talk later'_ behind Sasuke’s back.

“Our next mission should be interesting,” Sayuri says to no one in particular, her sweet voice filling the sweet summer air. “We’re leaving the village for the first time.” 

“Yosh! I’m ready, I even packed extra snacks!” A fox-like smile curls at Naruto’s mouth as he pats his backpack, careful not to crush the food. 

“We’re only planting flowers in a neighboring town and escorting the town’s priestess to her village, it's hardly impressive.” Sasuke drolls, boredom painting lacing his voice. “Always thinking with your stomach, hm, _Samlad_?” 

Sayuri rolls her eyes, but there’s a fond smile on her mouth. “A mission is a mission, right? Who knows, perhaps something _exciting_ will happen.” 

“Oi!” Like Sayuri, a warm smile curls at his mouth and—oh—was that his imagination or did he see a smirk flutter across Sasuke’s face? Something warm settles in his bones when Sasuke mentions his childhood nickname—and character from their favourite book. “I thought we agreed that _I_ was Bodo. I’m brave and heroic like him.” 

Sayuri laughs, laughing dark eyes bouncing between her male teammates. “I don’t know Naruto, you remind me of Samlad—you’re both strong and loyal friends who like potatoes.” 

“Boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew.” 

He knows he’s not dreaming when he sees the corners of Sasuke’s mouth lift up, the dimple on his cheek showing, but it’s gone like lightning, and Naruto mourns its loss like the flower mourns the sun when she sets. It’s such a small thing, but somehow, he feels as though everything’s going to be okay. 

Sayuri’s tinkling laughter caresses his ears, reminding him of the wind chimes that hang outside on the patio of Sasuke’s childhood home. “Then who am I?” She asks with an arched eyebrow. 

He and Sasuke share a glance, a thousand things transmitting between them, and he breaks the stare first and turns to look at Sayuri. “Áreiel, the daughter of Eldasil—she was headstrong, persuasive and confident and she fell in love with Aearondir and loved him so much that she forsook her immortality to be with him.” 

Sayuri sighs dreamily, resting her cheek against the palm of her hand. “That's awfully romantic. One day, I hope to love someone as much as Áreiel loved Aearondir. And I hope my chosen partner loves me with as much ferocity.” 

“They will, tebayo!” 

It was then that their sensei made her timely arrival. She, like everyone else, is dressed practically: black pants with a long-sleeved black turtleneck under the traditional jōnin vest, her dark hair pinned up into a bun with poisoned senbon, and the blades on her back look anything but ornamental—she’s looking every inch the hardened warrior and kenjutsu mistress.

Naruto scrambles to his feet, pulling his backpack over his shoulder, his mind attempting to filter out all the unnecessary content; he needs to be focused on the mission at hand. He can hear the other two doing the same, but he doesn’t pay much attention to them for he’s already focused. He wants to prove to their sensei and the old man that they are ready for both this mission and other c-ranked missions. He doesn’t want to disappoint him.

Their sensei holds her overnight bag in one hand, the scroll with the mission information in the other, amber eyes sharp as she sweeps a glance at her genin squad. “We’ll store our backpacks in this scroll, meet the Priestess at the front gates, then we’ll be on our way.” 

“Yes sensei,” the three of them chime. 

“I expect each and every one of you to uphold the integrity of Konoha and respect the traditions and such of Kikozaki when we arrive. As an assignment, I want each of you to observe the village, the villagers, and her traditions, and write a short report on what you've observed. ”

Naruto bites back a groan—another write up. Misaka-sensei had taken a shine to assigning her squad members little write up assignments—to practice their observation skills and writing reports for the Hokage, she said.

“Yes Misaka-sensei.” They repeat. She motions for them to place their backpacks in front of her so she can seal the backpacks in a storage seal. It was easier to travel that way, and if they were ambushed, not being burdened by cumbersome backpacks would help them fight off their enemies. Naruto watches with a keen eye, as she seals their backpacks in the seal (his interest in fuinjutsu shining through), and slips the scroll into her ninja pack. 

Misaka slides her gaze at Sasuke, her golden eyes softening slightly. “Are you injured, Uchiha-san?” she gestures towards the bandages around Sasuke’s hand, and Naruto curses silently, wishing he hadn’t missed that.

“I’m fine. It’s a scratch.” He says by way of explaining. Naruto peers into Sasuke’s face, but the darker boy doesn’t give anything away; he is completely expressionless. “It won’t affect my ability to carry out the mission.”

Misaka-sensei peers at Sasuke for a few moments longer, and nods. “If the wound affects your ability to carry out the mission, I expect you’ll inform me?” 

“Yes, sensei.” 

Naruto turns to the female member of their squad, lips curving into a foxy grin. “Psst, freckles, want a ride?”

Dark eyebrow arches, but her lips curve into an amused smile. “You’ll give me a piggyback ride? What are you, twelve?” 

“Duh!” 

Naruto leans over and beckons Sayuri to wrap her arms around his shoulders, a smile curling at his mouth. He hears her step forward, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sasuke roll his eyes, and perhaps he imagined the sliver of a smile on his mouth. “Your chariot awaits, M’lady.” 

A laugh escapes her lips as she leans forward and wraps her arms around his neck, the warmth of her breath making him shiver as it feathers across his neck. He hears her inhale, wondering if she can smell the mint and hibiscus shampoo he’d pilfered from Sasuke’s stash (not that Sasuke will notice, probably, maybe— _hopefully_ ), and hoists her into the air, feeling his knees and back protesting at the added weight, cheeks heating up as he notices the way his hands are holding her by the thighs. 

“Ándale, good sir!” 

He swallows and inhales, the smell of jasmine and coconut invading his senses as he follows his sensei and Sasuke. 

* * *

They reach the gate just as the air turns balmy, the scent of blossoms on the air. Team seven’s client is waiting there, of course, and Naruto takes a good look at her. She’s younger than them, with pretty blonde hair that’s a shade darker than Ino’s (and definitely not as pretty), a white dress that reminds him of the stark white Uzushio masks that line the hallway in his home, and a smile that sends shivers down his spine— 

_Beware of the solar flare and the forest of despair._

“This is our client, Ikehata Risu. As you know, we are escorting her to her village to help them as they prepare for their summer festival.” their sensei says, giving them a look— _be respectful, my snakelets._

“Hello! I am so very pleased you have decided to accompany me to my village. I am looking forward to this journey and I do hope we will all be friends.” her voice is like silk down his spine, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rising and he shivers, even with the heat of Sayuri against his back, and the summer sun boring down upon him.

“Good Morning, Ikehata-san—I can call you that, right?” Sayuri asks as she slides off his back, and he mourns the loss of her warmth against his back, suddenly cold even in the summer air. “I’m excited to see your village, and observe your customs.”

“Yes, you may—may I enquire as to your name, young ones?” 

“Oh—I’m Sayuri, Sayuri Ōhirume. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She bows and from the corner of his eye, he spies his sensei give her an approving nod, and warmth spreads down his spine for her. 

“Naruto Uzumaki at your service!” He says boisterously, his signature fox-like grin curving at his mouth, despite the dread creeping down his spine like a spider down its web in her presence, stomach full of lead. 

“Sasuke Uchiha.” The dark-haired boy says in a quieter tone.

Maybe he imagined the slight quiver in Sasuke’s voice, but he peers at Sasuke, he notes the way Sasuke looks even paler in the sunlight, and he wonders if Sasuke feels the same dread, the same skittering down his spine. He looks at Sayuri, but she doesn’t seem any dimmer, and he's no mind-reader so he can't tell what she's thinking. 

“Well met, Sasuke, Sayuri, Naruto.” she says, voice dripping in saccharine sweetness as she turns to each one of them, eyes lingering on his dark-haired friend the longest—and then her eyes are on _him_ and heat trickles down his spine. He can feel the sweat against his skin, the ringing in his ears, the way his heart races in his ears when she turns her blue eyes on him. 

She looks away, and the feeling recedes, like the waves upon the sand.

They depart from the village soon after, with Misaka-sensei leading the squad, the priestess directly behind her and Sasuke and Sayuri on either side of her—and he takes up the rear, protecting his squad and the client from the back (far away from the woman whose smile sends shivers down his spine, who smells of blood and flowers).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been 3-4 months since I last updated this fic! School has been busy and inspiration has been low. However! I’m glad you’ve stuck with me and waited patiently. This chapter, as you’ve noticed is from Naruto’s point of view - and I’ll be switching between Sasuke’s point of view, Naruto’s point of view, and Sayuri’s point of view. There may be some interludes from other characters but for now, those are the main point of view.   
>  So, i’m sure you’ve noticed that Team 7 has two different members : Misaka Yabuchi, their sensei and Sayuri Ohirume, their third squad member. Yes, these are two original characters. Kakashi will be featured, even though he isn’t the sensei of Team 7. I did warn you in the chapter one notes that this is a very different Team 7 and there were even some hints in the first chapter that team seven’s sensei was Not Kakashi. Not to worry, Kakashi will still show up and he’ll be involved in team 7’s development. I firmly believe that Sakura would have grown stronger and faster had she not been on Sasuke's team, so that is where the decision comes from- she will become stronger and she will get over her crush on Sasuke sooner.
> 
> [join the discord server](https://discord.gg/rPVk7DX), where I talk about the series, post drabbles, oneshots and tidbits from the fics, share inspiration and worldbuilding.


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